Introducing Johnny Tahoe!

I didn't know what to expect.

Here's what Rachel told me on the phone...

"Get to Sluggers around 9pm. That's when the rest of the girls are going to be there. Everything will already be set up. The doors open at 10pm. Admission is $12. I kinda want this thing to run on time, so I'll be pretty strict about getting the matches started and ended. We'll also be doing some prize raffles and stuff. You also get one comp and I'll pay you after the show."

And that was my introduction to emceeing Women's Oil-Wrestling Competitions.



I'd gotten the gig by answering a post on CIN. I don't know how the producer, Rachel, found out about that site, but she'd posted there, asking for applications and I thought, "Why not? You could certainly make cash in far shittier ways. PLUS, it'll be Oil Wrestling, right?" So, I emailed her my resume and hit on my qualifications and low-balled my price to her. I wasn't really doing it for the cash.

I knew that I wanted to wear something "special" for the show. I wanted to dress like how I imagined an oil-wrestling announcer would dress. So, I wore a black suit to work yesterday and a dark, dress shirt and boots.
After work, I hit up Ragstock on Belmont and picked up the rest of the stuff that I needed.

Neck tie - $2
Sunglasses - $5
Red Pinky Ring - $3
Skull and Crossbones Ring - $5
Black Cowboy Hat - $5
Presidential Seal Button for the hat - 50 cents.

Throw them all together and you get the first pass at my costume for Johnny Tahoe, Oil-Wrestling Announcer...



I like the costume. It's like nothing that I already had in my closet. Although, I have to confess that I want to make one addition to the costume for the next time that I do it.



Hooray for Spirit Gum, eh?

This character is like no-one I've ever played before.
As I see him, Johnny Tahoe is a bad-ass, slow-drawling, Master of Ceremonies type, who has no interest in you, beyond how much money you can make him. And indeed, when I was up on the stage, I cussed at the audience and insulted them, I lazily encouraged them to cheer for the ladies and many times let them know that I was more interested in the girls and what they were doing, than I was, in entertaining the audience.

And they ate it up.

People offered to buy Johnny Tahoe drinks. (I didn't take them up on it, as I was on the clock.) People asked Johnny Tahoe where he was from. ("Where do ya think Ahm from, Smartass?") And people made their way over to Johnny Tahoe to tell him how much they loved the whole affair.

And how was the wrestling, you may ask?

It was... interesting. Public Exhibitions of Ladies Oil Wrestling lives somewhere in the grey areas of society. It's not quite a comedy show, because the ladies (in this case) were too fucking hot and they weren't really doing or saying anything funny. And it's not quite public porn, because they keep their bikini tops on and they're not quite fucking each other (not quite). So, it's a crazy, over-the-top, loud, screaming mess of girls in a kiddie pool, scantily clad, and sopping with oil, throwing each other down and leg-locking each other and sometimes grinding against each other and sometimes making out, whilst a crowd of mostly men stand there and take pictures with their cell phones.

At the time of the show, it never occurred to me that it was "hot". It was just a job and I tried to remember the girls names and keep the banter alive. Later, when I got home, I definitely felt turned on and super-charged. Which I didn't think would happen.

The girls were all actually really, really hot. Some of them had big boobs and some had fake boobs and they all had such itty bitty bikinis on. The general theme of the night was "Big Boobs, covered in baby-oil". And when I met them before the show, dressed, eating dinner and having a beer, I thought, "Damn, these girls are all much hotter than I expected them to be." They looked pretty good in their little bikini's too.

And what did it look like?

Well, it pretty much looked like this video clip...
(Um, this is video of girls oil-wrestling. Which might not be work-safe, ya know?)


Except our girls were frantically wrestling each, hard scrabbling and vicious. There was so much oil on the girls (both from the pool and the lucky raffle winners who would get to come up and squirt the girls down with MORE baby oil) that they literally squirted out from between each others legs and couldn't keep a grip on each other, except by full body tackles and wrapping their legs around each other... and making out.

I liked the part where they would stop wrestling in order to make out.

At the end of the night, I was EXHAUSTED and I reeked of baby oil. The girls splashed around in that shit so much that they got me pretty good. So, that's a suit that'll have to be dry-cleaned now. And soon.

I got home, snapped those pics of Mr. Tahoe for this blog entry and then went to bed where I had the dirtiest, dirtiest dreams ever.

I had fun. And it turns out that the whole event was a fund-raiser for an independent documentary that the producer is working on. She has a couple more of these events scheduled and she asked if I was available to host them. I told her to give me a call and I'll put on my pinky ring for her.

Somewhere, in the Chicago suburbs, a bad man in a black hat will walk into a bar, pick up the microphone and cause all manner of Hell to break loose, covered in baby oil.

That man is called "Johnny Tahoe"!